


Steamy

by PoppyAlexander



Series: Sherlock Rare Pair Ficlets [8]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Gym Sex, Johnstrade, M/M, Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Shower Sex, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, Tumblr Prompt, steam, sweating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-19
Updated: 2016-01-19
Packaged: 2018-05-15 00:19:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5764540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PoppyAlexander/pseuds/PoppyAlexander
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John and Greg in the showers at the gym.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Steamy

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr user MustHaveBlackedOut Asked:  
> Hey, do you remember that time after racquetball in the showers, Greg knelt & wet, teasing John open with broad licks, nimble lips & soaped fingers, John keening & panting under the spray???
> 
> WHY YES I BELIEVE I DO!

John’s cheek deformed against the white tile, somehow still cool beneath the sheen of steam it wore, and he bit the heel of his hand to keep from groaning out loud. Greg lifted his ankle, set John’s foot atop his own knee, opening John’s legs and John arched his back, presenting himself, and a hot flush of shame at his own sluttish behaviour mottled the skin of his chest even as the spray of the hot shower mottled his back. The cringe morphed into a delicious shiver, though, as Greg’s thick fingers flattened to press one arse cheek aside, and his wide tongue went flat and warm and wet against John’s already-softened hole, and  _pulsated_. Best man at the Met, indeed.

The tongue vanished for a moment, and John felt the change in ambient temperature keenly just in that overheated, sensitive place Greg was so eagerly attendant to. (And speaking of attendants, mightn’t one amble in at any moment, wondering why the two of them had now been lingering in the locker room rather longer than seemed necessary?) John’s mind was suddenly stuck between channels, white-and-grey static fuzz and a buzzing in his ears, as Greg shoved the tip of his tongue  _forward_  and  _inside_  and dear jeezus John was going to finish much too soon,  _much_  too soon…He gripped the root of his prick in the circle of finger and thumb, tried to think of something awful as a momentary distraction from– _fuck, fuck, fuck_ –Greg with two fingers inside him, easily hitting the mark, and rubbing.

John whimpered behind his nose in a way that sounded like true distress because fuck,  _fuck!_ , he was  _plenty fucking distressed_  at the moment, trying to stop himself coming all over the wall just from this, only this?, get it together, Watson, you’ve had three at a time on Egyptian cotton sheets and been the last man standing, surely you can soldier on…

Greg got to his feet then, pretty nimbly for a man of a certain age, John reckoned; he must have better knees than John’s, and his hands on John’s hips and waist and arse arrranged him at a suitable angle and thank christ for it, thank you, thank you–if ever a man needed to be fucked, well and truly, rough and ready,  _as soon as fucking possible_ , it was Captain John Watson, Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers, veteran of OH FUCK…

Greg’s chin dug into the hollow of John’s neck and shoulder, and the air was too hot, and John was sweating even as the water rinsed his sweat away, and Greg dug his fingertips in the hair of John’s chest, his underarm, around his navel, and down, and took him in hand, the fat knob of Greg’s cockhead bumping insistently up against John’s licked-open hole. John groaned heavily, forgetting to muffle it, as Greg guided himself in. Not slick enough, so Greg fucked him shallowly and almost slow (but firm, Greg was all business as ever and the business was getting off, and business was bloody god damn  _good_ , wasn’t it?) and it was all a bit too hot and rough and raw and John was sure he’d be sore but then Greg began to growl in time with it…

“Yeah? That’s it. Yeah. Good man. Yeah…yeah…fuck yeah…”

Greg’s fingers encircled his oozing, thrumming, nearly-there-darling-aren’t-yeh prick and John’s hands splayed flat against the slippery wall as if he were being frisked, face still pressed there, his breath grunting out of him, and Greg pulled in time with the too-much/not-enough strokes of the head of his prick into John’s arse, and John fucked back, just a bit, not enough, and all at once Greg’s body shook hard and violent behind him, and he bit down on John’s shoulder deep enough to leave two crescent-shaped bruises John would be worrying for days to come, to remind him, as if he needed reminding,

“Fuck yeah, that arse of yours, now I want to feel you come. Will you? Come on now.”

and in the end it was the feel of Greg’s softening cock slipping out of him, leaving him wanting, that sent him hurtling over the edge, and Greg’s mouth found his and swallowed his grunting shout as his cum washed down the wall and circled in viscous globules down the drain.

They called that one a draw.


End file.
